Not Today

I'm often reminded of the 1969 movie "If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium" (Suzanne Pleshette, Ian McShane) because I have considerable difficulty figuring out what day it is.  (I know it's not Belgium.)  With no weekend to look forward to or get over, the days all run together and it's very easy to lose track.  I had better luck when my milk customer would come on Mondays, and now my main challenge is to remember to take the trash down to the big road on Tuesdays.  Should I make an appointment, I dutifully write it down on whatever paper is at hand.  The problem there is that I must immediately go put it on the calendar, otherwise I'll forget what scrap of paper it's on or just forget it, period.  (That's assuming I look at the calendar.)

Some time back Tinka and I made arrangements to get together for lunch and an outing when Kit returned to Fiddletown.  I wrote down the date and time, and promptly lost the paper.  I certainly didn't want to miss Kit's visit, so emailed Tinka last week and asked if it was to be on May 24th or 25th.  "Um, neither.  We're getting together on June 1."  Yesterday Tinka called and gently reminded me that we are meeting on Friday.  Not today.  Tomorrow.  It's bad when your reputation precedes you.

Preview

I got a pretty good idea yesterday of what's to come.  It was starting to heat up while I was doing barn chores.  By the time I got back to the house I needed to turn on the ceiling fan.  It had been my intention to get some mowing done, but that ended up on the WNTD list.  By noon it was only (only!) in the mid 80s, but hot enough to drain any ambition I might have had.  Bess and the cats felt the same way, looking for cool places to stretch out instead of the sunny, warm patches they'd hunted a few days ago.  I was just thankful none of them chose my lap for a nap.

There were big doings down at the winery in the morning.  PG&E was replacing a power pole and there were large pieces of loud equipment and a crew of workers.  The goats weren't quite sure how to react to all the hubbub, but soon settled down.  I can only imagine how glad the guys must have been to have all the automated equipment.  Think what it must have been like in the past, having to dig out and set the poles by hand.  It wouldn't have been a one-day job, for sure.

It doesn't take long for the sandy soil up here to dry out.  The peonies were looking a little droopy so I started what will become a regular watering program.  Mindful that the drought isn't over yet, I didn't leave the sprinkler on very long.

Weather Guy promised a bit of a break today.  I'm going to hold him to it, because he also threatened the temperature was going to shoot up again by the weekend.  Sigh.

Up 'n Down

Spring has lasted longer this year than I can ever remember, and I'm sure not going to complain about that.  What is difficult to cope with are the extreme changes in temperature nearly every day.  From jacket-all-day chill and rain, we went straight into 80-degree days (90 down in the valley).  Weather Guy now says we'll get a 20-degree drop by Thursday.  Evidently Nature has a thing for roller coasters.  Whee!

There has always been a flag pole at the corner of the deck and I like to put the flag up on appropriate holidays.  Yesterday being Memorial Day, I took the flag out in the morning.  There is no slack whatsoever in the rope and the pulley at the top is cranky so it was a bit of a struggle to get Old Glory up and flying.  I really ran into trouble at sundown.  It is disrespectful to leave a flag out after dark so I did my darndest to get the rope moving, but it was a no-go.  (And they say what goes up must come down.  Ha!)  Finally in desperation I put in a call to Beau.  Fortunately, he was down in P'ville and said he'd stop by on his way home.  It's hard to ask for help in such a dumb situation, but....

All's well that ends well.

New Friends

Levi, the young man who came with his girlfriend from Hawaii to meet the goats a couple of months ago, has a yard service business.  I have juniper bushes in front of the house that have grown to monster proportions.  They are a haven for Shaddup (who is once again driving me batty with his yipping) and his tribe and have almost obliterated the path to the front door.  I can't work on them myself because I seem to have an allergy to juniper and just brushing against them with bare skin causes a rash to erupt, so I called Levi.

He came yesterday afternoon after being at the nearby park with his dogs, Goose, an old yellow lab, and Sid, a much younger pitty.  I'm never sure how other dogs will react to Bess, so was cautious about letting her out to greet them, but I needn't have worried.  Goose and Sid were perfect gentlemen and Bessie was a gracious hostess, all having passed the initial butt-sniffing test that dogs do.

I was a bit concerned when Levi had said he would bring a chainsaw, imagining the juniper would end up looking like a victim of Edward Scissorhands, but, other than an expanded walkway and three full wheelbarrow loads of branches taken away, one would never know it had been thinned.  After checking out the property, Goose and Sid joined Bess and me on the porch to supervise.  Levi was done in no time at all.  There is certainly more to do, but it was a successful start.

It was a good day.

Don't Tell Bess

For the working world, this is a long, three-day weekend.  One would think that, being retired, every day would be a day off; however, when one has livestock there is no such thing as a weekend.  I can't remember the last time I slept in until 6 a.m. as I did this morning, and I feel like I'm running late even though I have no set schedule.

Bessie Anne snores and has for some time.  Being asleep, I don't know whether I do or not, and she never says.  I'm used to hearing that gentle sound.  Yesterday my constant companion evidently had a problem in her gastrointestinal tract and was under a gas attack.  Don't tell her I said so, but she quietly tooted all day long, not loud enough to wake her from her nap(s), but enough to get my attention.  At least she gave fair warning, much better than the silent-but-deadly type.  Since her diet never changes, I can't imagine what caused the problem.

It's the time of year when I feel like I'd really like to fill all the pots on the deck with flowers, but it would be an exercise in futility.  Robert the Raider and his cohorts continue to run rampant on the deck, digging in the dirt and knocking pots over.  I might as well just feed the boogers dollar bills and not have to clean up their mess.  Sigh.

Well, like the White Rabbit said, "I'm late, I'm late!," and I'd best get a move on.

Perfect Timing

Sunup, such as it was, yesterday showed a grey, drizzly morning with clouds so low they looked like fog.  Okay, not too bad, but when I went out to feed, that's when it started really raining.  Crum.  My timing was off.  By the time I got to the barn, not only was my jacket wet, but after slogging through the high weeds, my britches were wet to the knees and my barn shoes, old ones that were in tatters, had leaked like sieves and my socks were soaked.  Let's just say I didn't dawdle giving the girls their breakfast.  I left the barn door open and squelched my way back to the house.

By happy circumstance, I'd bought a new pair of shoes when I was in town the other day so I had something dry to put on.  Of course, once I was inside, the rain stopped and it went back to just heavy mist.  It was a good day to get some housework done.  Whenever I did sit down, my lap was immediately filled with fur.  Even Bessie Anne got into the act and crowded her way in.  When the weather was warm, they mercifully let me be and stretched out in sunny spots on the floor.

This was the only glimpse of sun all day.  The sky above looks blue; it was not, and as I walked out the door, it started raining again.  Perfect timing.

Big Sister

Celeste is an affectionate big sister.  She spends a lot of time cuddled up napping with Ralph and they're never far apart from each other.  She is, however, just the least bit critical of her little brother.  He is pretty sloppy when it comes to the shared litter box, giving a few haphazard scratches and he's off again.  I can hear Celeste mumbling under her breath as she comes along behind him and does a thorough job of covering up for him.  She also thinks he's careless when it comes to self-grooming and will take Ralph's face in her paws and give him a good washing behind his ears.  She would have been a good mother.

The bed is pretty crowded these nights what with me, Bess, Ralph and Celeste, and now two piglets have joined us.  Like a little kid with a stuffed elephant or a favorite bankie, Celeste is bringing her toys to bed with her.

(Ralph evidently just went potty because Celeste has been scratching litter for the last five minutes.)

I was down at Wally World yesterday.  I'd put on a clean shirt, but was in the day's bibbies.  A clerk took a look at me and said, "I can check you out through the garden department if that's where you're parked."  I told her no thanks as the truck was just outside the front door.  She hurried off before I could say, "I raise goats, not plants," regardless of how I was dressed.  First impressions and all that.

That Was Different

I'm not the only older person who has goofy mealtimes.  I eat when I'm hungry, and who's to say I'm wrong.  It was fortunate yesterday that I decided on an early dinner because the day took a strange twist.  I was frying a hamburger patty with onions, a pat of butter, and a splash of balsamic vinegar when I noticed the flame was getting low toward the end of cooking.  Hmmm.  Turning the knob had no effect and finally there was no flame at all.  What the heck?!  Luckily, dinner was done.

In all the years I've lived here, I've never run out of propane gas.  I'm not on a set delivery schedule.  Whenever the guys are in the area, they stop by and top off the tank and that keeps the charges low (or as low as they get).  There was just enough time to call the company and find out what had gone wrong before they closed for the day.  The nice lady did some checking, explaining while she did that the office had gone through a shake-up and changes were being made.  It turned out that someone had put a "stop delivery" order on my account and there was no explanation.  I'd never missed a payment, I had not called in such an order, I'd been a customer for many, many years.  The only reason I could think of was that some disgruntled employee messed with the system to hurt the company before leaving.

Nice Lady said she would send someone out ASAP, for which I was grateful.  Michael showed up within the hour, filled the tank and relit all the pilot lights; stove, water heater, and downstairs fireplace.  I'm back in business!  (I would say I'm in hot water again, but that has a different connotation.)

I don't need that kind of excitement, but there was a happy ending.

Which Is Better?

Which is better, seeing a single peony blossom or a whole bouquet (with more to come)?  They are hard to see, but there are four more of the single pink buds waiting to pop, and that's a second double white to the left.  The other eight plants are hanging back, waiting for their moment in the spotlight.  That's okay, it just extends my viewing pleasure.

Which is better, heading into summer with no A/C in the truck, or getting relief with cool air blowing?  Yup, I agree.  Knowing the checkbook would take a hit, I called the the little one-man shop in Mt. Aukum yesterday morning as soon as I'd finished barn chores to ask about an appointment.  I was taken aback when Jane, the co-owner, said if I could bring Truck down right then, Garage Guy could do it in one day.  Even better, she would provide taxi service so I didn't have to interrupt anyone else's day asking for a ride.  Man, I had my keys in hand as soon as I hung up the phone.  There was a bit of a hiccup when I found a 50-foot truck and trailer blocking my driveway.  The poor driver had made a turn onto the wrong road and gotten himself lost.  I'm sure he thought it was propitious timing that I showed up when I did.  I was just glad the truck hadn't broken down.  I gave him directions to his destination and he pulled his monster truck up far enough for me to make my getaway.  (I found out later that he had backed up all the way down to the paved road without incident.  Good man!)

Being without a vehicle out here in the boonies is a bit worrisome.  One never knows when an accident might occur, so I was really hoping the A/C would, in fact, be a one-day job.  I'd also asked if Garage Guy could take a look at the door handle that had been not only sticking, but had trapped me in the truck several times.  It's not easy to climb over the center console in a ladylike manner to escape out the other door, and I'm sure I had provided amusement to onlookers in the grocery store parking lot.  Imagine my amazement when Jane called about 2:00 to say that Truck was done.  The bill, even with new parts, came in well under what I had imagined, so I was one happy camper.  She came to pick me up right then, and I drove home with cold air blasting.  (The door handle acted like it had never done anything wrong.)

It was a good day.

Watch Your Step

Ha Ha!  The WNTD list works!  I cleverly did not put laundry on the list because, of necessity, I had to wash some clothes and no, I did not consider that cheating.  Hey, my game, my rules.  It was a great satisfaction to cross off everything I did not do throughout the day.  I think I'm going to have to leave dusting off the list today; it's pretty bad when I can see Ralph's paw prints on the coffee table.

The ground at Farview is pockmarked with squirrel holes so it is important to watch where you step.  It's not just the holes you see; sometimes the little boogers make booby-trap tunnels that collapse and pitch you forward.  It might be my imagination, but I swear I can hear them snickering underground.

The weeds in the goat pen are up to my knees now and I high-step like a drum major on my way to the barn.  Trying to walk normally is impossible because the long, tough grasses bend over to trip me up.  The girls do make paths, but they walk single file and put one foot in front of the other so the path is only about four inches across.  While still comfortable, the weather is warming up and there are almost daily reports of rattlesnake sightings in the community.  With the weeds so high, I'm on constant alert for a snake in the grass.  I'm equally conscious when stepping into the barn.  It wouldn't be the first time one of those critters had come in.  I'm hoping that Missy has taken care of most of the food supply in there.

Speaking of Missy, she must have heard me say her name the other day because she was waiting in her room for breakfast and it was so nice to see that little girl.

It is almost daybreak and time to consider what to put on the list today.  I could get used to this.

What Not To Do

I'm getting pretty tired of making To-Do lists in the morning and then beating myself up in the evening because so few items got crossed off during the day.  It's very discouraging and disheartening.  Of course, the list is easier to make the next day because so many things are still there.  I think I've thought of a solution.  I'm going to start making a list of What Not To Do Today.  Success will be measured by crossing off everything I didn't do.  I'll bet I get the gold star in no time at all.  Where there's a will, there's a way.

There were a few accomplishments yesterday, first and foremost being the odious paying of bills and the hummingbird feeders got filled.  It's unreal how fast those tiny guys can suck up two quarts of juice.  They zoomed around my head and were Johnny on the spot as soon as the bottles were hung.  Dusting, of course, did not get crossed off.  That will undoubtedly be the top entry on the What Not To Do list (if I ever get around to making it).

I had been getting worried about Missy.  Not only had I not seen her for several days, her food bowl had not been touched.  I'd gotten to the point of hoping some kind soul had taken her in as a permanent pet; alternative choices were just too grim.  I don't know where she's been, but most of her kibble was gone yesterday morning.  Whew.

I've been hearing Camille weed-eating like a madwoman down at her place this weekend.  That should be an incentive to me to get more done here, but just listening to her makes me tired.  Oh well.

Lilies Of The Field

Okay, they're not lilies, but these whatever-they-are drape the south field in a golden blanket that would make Solomon envious.  This view was taken from the road after a quick trip to the grocery store.  I needed to get back to watch the festivities at Pimlico.  In a way, the Preakness coverage is better than that at the Kentucky Derby.  At the Derby, the emphasis is on fashion and interviews with celebrities, with only a couple of preliminary races covered before the big event.  Yesterday was all about racing.  It was raining in Baltimore just as it had been in Louisville, and the track was just as sloppy.  In fact, by the time of the Preakness, thick fog had rolled in and made it difficult for Larry Collmus to call the race.  When the triple crown is at stake, it's hard not to root for the winner of the Derby, and Justify did not disappoint.  It was a nail-biting neck-and neck finish.  It will be a three-week wait for the Belmont.

On my way to the house after shopping, I noticed that the first peony bud had burst into bloom.  Peonies are one of the most romantic of flowers, like billowy ball gowns or wedding dresses.

A day at the races is never wasted, even though I did "not toil nor spin."

Dress To Impress

On any given day, wild turkeys have really beautiful plumage.  Feathers glisten and shine in the sun with tones of bronze, purple, and blue.  The hens are not nearly as colorful as the males, but they have something else working in their favor.  Yesterday I looked up when I heard the sounds of seduction.  A tom was in the driveway with a few of his ladies and was looking to add more to his harem.  Talk about a showoff!  Dressed to impress, he'd puffed himself up to the max, tail fanned out, parading slowly back and forth, and periodically striking the ground with his wing tips and then dragging them with a now-familiar boom-hiss sound.  His girlfriends followed dutifully behind, but the intended beloveds played hard to get and didn't even turn their heads to admire his macho display.  After the preliminary courtship, turkeys are discreet and keep their love life private.  Just as well, TMI.

Arden and I have been friends for so long that I didn't have to change out of my bibbies when she came over in the afternoon.  It's a pleasure to have a friend with whom you can discuss darned near anything.  As it is with Camille, agreement isn't necessary.  If a person doesn't listen to opposing views, it's easy to fall into "I am right" and nothing is learned.  As it is, we were in accord on almost everything yesterday and I am right about that.

With primary elections coming up, the mailbox is stuffed with campaign literature, the phone rings with those irritating robocalls from candidates or supporters, and so much TV time is devoted to political ads.  Do they ever influence voters?

Nature herself is dressed up for spring.  The front pasture and south field are spread with a blanket of yellow.  Even though I know they are a variety of dandelions, it is a beautiful, cheery sight.  There is a horse ranch just down the road and a number of the big pens are covered with lupine and poppies.  I'm impressed.

Easing Back

After nearly a week of playing lady of the manor, recess is over and it's back to reality.  Not that I'm rushing, understand, the shock would be too great.  Taking baby steps, I got some piddly chores done yesterday in between sit-downs.  A top item was making "juice" for the hummers.  They'd drained all three feeders the day before.  The little guys don't go hungry because they all go down and freeload off Camille, but "my" birds are my responsibility.

Sheila is being a troublemaker lately.  She runs around after breakfast challenging Inga and Tessie to a head-butting battle, and finally one or the other will take her on.  I really don't like to hear that solid thunk when heads collide, but I'm sure not going to get in between them.

Bessie Anne has figured out what that slab of wood I put down is for and can get herself back up on the deck at will now.  Easier on both of us.

I'm glad I checked and found out the Preakness will be run tomorrow.  Justify, winner of the Kentucky Derby, is the odds-on favorite.  Whatever gets done today, I know what I'll be doing tomorrow.

Dark, Darker, And A Bright Spot

Rain, thunder and lightning were forecast for most of northern California yesterday.  Sure enough, the morning sky was dark, dark enough that I went down to the barn early in hopes of avoiding a soaking.  I left the barn open for the girls, just in case.  The reports of weather in the valley were pretty significant.  It got so dark here that all of the automatic nightlights came on.  Having once had a transformer blow out in a lightning storm, sending blue sparks out of the wall, unplugging the computer seemed a wise choice.  It wasn't long before the first thunder rolled through the hills and rain started to fall.  It was the most short-lived storm yet, over in about fifteen minutes.  It was as if Nature was just getting rid of leftovers.

While not exactly a blue-sky day, by the time I was ready to leave for Linda's I really didn't need a jacket.  (All this changing of clothes the last week has tired me out.)  Linda had suggested an alternate route to her house in Pollock Pines.  Because there are no familiar landmarks, a new road seems to take forever and I was glad I'd left early, and I found Linda's address without a hitch.  It was lovely to spend time with my friend, definitely the bright spot in my day.  Being the ultimate hostess, she even arranged for some sunshine so we could sit out on her deck for a bit before going in to enjoy a delicious lunch.  I haven't had smoked pork chops in years, and Brussels sprouts and cauliflower are two of my favorite vegetables.  The drive home seemed much shorter.

Celeste just came down the hall, crooning to the piglet she carried.  Her aim has gotten much better because it's been quite awhile since I've had to rescue a floater from the bathroom "pool."  I still find them all over the house.

The sun is out this morning.  It'll have to go some to beat yesterday, but it's going to be a good day.

To The Manor

I once knew a woman who declined all menial chores, saying she was "to the manor born."  I rather felt that way myself yesterday.  Before leaving to have an early lunch at the Senior Center with Camille, I instructed one of my mechanical servants to wash the dishes while I was gone.  Camille goes to the Center quite often; I make it only once or twice a year, but try to show up on a day they serve salmon with homemade aioli.  Eating out twice in a week (and I'll be going to Linda's today) is certainly not my usual routine, but I could get used to having my meals prepared.

In the afternoon, in response to a plea for assistance, Helper Dude came to do some weed-eating.  HD showed up in a new-to-him pickup.  He just turned 18 and he's a working fool, paying for the truck himself.  Rightfully proud of himself, he showed off all its bells and whistles.  He'd already worked eight hours at his "real" job, and I explained that not everything here had to be done in one day, but he put in a solid two hours cutting down weeds while I just sat on my duff.  There are plenty more, however, and I'll probably end up sending him through college before it's all done.

The "manor" is looking pretty good these days, and I've got the incentive to finish mowing the yards now.

It was a good day, six mice in the barrel notwithstanding.

Playing Hooky

I took another day off as a lady of leisure (I could get used to this).  It was a good thing because I needed to stay by the phone.  I thank everyone for their birthday-wish calls, texts, and emails.  I was made to feel very special, morning to night.

By her ears, you can tell that Sheila wasn't too sure about this up close and personal visit by Missy, but it didn't stop her from eating her breakfast.  I doubt that cat and goats will ever be BFF, but they've sure come a long way from the beginning when just the sight of the cat would send the girls into a stampede.

Only three mice in the barrel yesterday.  I guess that's some sort of progress

Since I played hooky yesterday, there's not a lot to write about, but it was a better-than-good day.

Binging

Finding all these little critters in the bird feed barrel wasn't exactly how I wanted to start the day yesterday.  For the previous three or four mornings there had been just one mouse (ratlett?).  He hopped up and down like popcorn, but I'd been able to scoop him up with the feed cup and flip him out.  On the last day, he sat quietly and waited for the elevator.  I didn't expect him to invite all his friends or siblings for a free meal.  I was not going to put my hand in with this mob, so tilted the barrel and let them go free.

There probably aren't too many who remember the multitalented Hoagy Carmichael, but those who do will look at this photo and think of Ole Buttermilk Sky.  I sure did.

I spent the day binge watching back-to-back episodes of several series I'd previously recorded for just such a do-nothing day.  Larry called from Hawaii and we had a long, lovely chat.  We'd all been a little concerned that some of the smoke and ash from the volcano might have blown over from the big island to Oahu, but he said they'd not seen anything.  Good news.  Another call later wasn't so good; my ninety-something mother-in-law has broken her hip.

There was a public-service announcement on TV urging parents to have their kids put down their electronic devices and go outside to play at least a half-hour a day.  To an old fogie like me, that was just inconceivable.  Long, long ago, kids didn't need to be told to go outside, the hard part was getting us to come back in the house.  It got me thinking about all the things we did:  riding bikes, playing hopscotch, jumping on pogo sticks, making a wish before blowing the fluff off a dandelion, spitting watermelon seeds (watermelons used to have seeds), girls saying the alphabet while twisting the stem of an apple to find out the initial of their boyfriend and hoping it broke off at the name of some boy they liked, roller skates that needed a key to tighten, autograph books in which someone would inevitably write "Don't kiss _____ by the garden gate.  Love is blind, but the neighbors ain't," cutting out paper dolls, walking carefully down the sidewalk because we all knew that stepping on a crack would break your mother's back.  In a nutshell, we were busy!  Sigh.

Aside from the mice, it was a good day.

As Good As It Gets

Anyone who reads The View might gather that I really like my Kids, and they'd be right.  Due to work, weather, and a myriad of other reasons, we rarely to never celebrate a holiday on the designated date, so yesterday was an early combined Mother's Day and birthday party (lucky me!).  Deb, Craig, Dave, Clay, Jester (another 'dopted son), and I met at a restaurant in Placerville for lunch, no cooking or dish washing involved.  All the Kids were in rare form and you never heard such laughter as they teased and joked.  I felt sorry for anyone who wasn't us.  Because the restaurant wasn't crowded, we were able to have a leisurely meal without rushing and enjoy each other's company, which was the best gift, among others, I received.  Even when we finally moved the party outside, no one was in a hurry to leave and we stood around for a good half-hour or more talking.  Dave, Jester, and Clay had ridden their motorcycles on another beautiful day, but Dave and Jester had a couple more distant stops to make and finally they roared off (no bike makes a sound like a Harley).  Reluctant to break it up, Deb, Craig, Clay and I continued to talk in the parking lot a while longer.  White clouds overhead began to take on color and Clay still had a long ride ahead.  Nobody gives better hugs than my Kids, and it was time to say goodbye.

The road home was nearly free of traffic so I was able to enjoy the patches of blue lupine and California poppies along the way.  It's an ever-changing view of flowering this's and thats that darn near takes my breath away.

I'd hardly gotten in the house in the afternoon when the sky went dark and the wind kicked up.  It was nearly the same as the day before, but without the rain.  What the heck game is Nature playing?  I hoped the bikers had been ahead of the weather.  Riding a motorcycle is no fun in the wind (yes, I know this from experience back in the day).

I wish all mothers have as great a day as I had.  It was truly as good as it gets.

Can't Complain

It was one of those days.  It started out pretty well:  gorgeous weather, Turk (the squirrel who thinks that's his name when I call the turkeys) showed up for the buffet, and the girls all behaved at breakfast.  Deciding that, like any exercise, the best thing is to just keep at it so I went out to do some more hand weeding.  I did about the same amount as the day before.  At this rate, I might get done with the herb garden by the Fourth of July.

Not yet being in the routine, I hadn't noticed until coming back from the barn the night before that I had not brought the comforter in off the line.  Not to worry, another day of hanging in the sunshine and breeze wouldn't hurt and there was still the perfume of freshly mown grass that would smell so good later on.

Procrastination sometimes carries penalties, however.  I needed to go to town (oh goody).  Since it doesn't get dark now until after 7:30, there was no big rush to get home to put the girls to bed so I could take my time.  In the afternoon I took a shower, reminding myself to bring the comforter in when I got back.  The cellphone battery was getting low, so I put it to charge and sat down.  Suddenly, and I mean in a matter of minutes, clouds rolled over, the sky got dark, it started raining and a fierce wind battered the house.  What the heck?!  As quickly as it had come, it was gone.  The storm had not lasted more than fifteen minutes.  At least I wouldn't have to drive in the rain and the plants had a nice drink of water.  Getting into the truck, I started to pull out and then and only then did I see that the comforter had flipped up and over the cross bar on the post.  I thought it had just pulled loose from the pins, but getting out to rehang it (it had, of course, gotten soaked in the rain), I saw that the wind had been so strong that it had beaten the comforter so badly that it had broken down two of the three clotheslines.  Well, isn't that just great.  Gathering the wet blanket and putting it in the house to put in the dryer, I thought, "Well, that will teach you, lady."

By the time I got down to the big road, the sun was out and steam rose from the wet pavement.  It started heating up and I turned on Truck's air conditioner.  It blew air, but it wasn't cold.  Don't ever ask, "What next?"  I certainly can't go through summer without my only relief from heat, so I'll be searching for a shop to get it repaired next week.

When I got home, these clouds were the only reminder of the storm.

All in all, none of the day's events had been a disaster.  While I can and frequently do, there was nothing to complain about; everything can be fixed.

I'll report tomorrow, but today is going to be a good day.

Trade Off

Another perfect spring day, too nice to stay inside, but I wasn't willing to take another beating from John Dear so soon.  Hmmm.  Okay, so I made a plan.  The winter comforter went into the washing machine right after barn chores and I had a sit-down.  When the mechanical servant had done its job, Bess and I went out to hang the comforter on the line.  She has a talent for lying down right where I need to step next, so it wasn't as easy as one might think.  Another little break before going out to get a start on hand weeding the herb garden.  Marjoram and thyme die off in winter, but come back full force in spring.  The ten peony plants are up and putting out buds.  The problem is that there are so many tall weeds that it's hard to see the good guys.  Where to start?  I take a systematic approach to weeding; once I've bent over I pull everything within reach before moving on.  Bess, my supervisor, knows where I want to go next and so, of course, lies down right there.  We have to talk about this.  I traded the soreness in neck and shoulders from John for pain in the thighs from weeding.  Even so, with an armful of the unwanted and an hour of effort, there's hardly a dent in what still needs to be done.  Definitely time for another sit-down.

The best thing for sore muscles is to keep moving so I made a frontal attack on the kitchen.  Bessie Anne won't walk on the slick surface anymore, but plopped down in the doorway to keep an eye on me.  She is my constant companion, dear girl that she is.  The cats came in, ostensibly to check on my progress, but in reality to sweet talk me into giving them treats...again.  They'd already had their goodies earlier, but Celeste is insatiable and Ralph comes along and lets his sister do the talking.

I drew the line at mopping the floor and called it quits for the day.  It was a good day.

One Down

Well, I finished mowing the side yard yesterday.  I had plans to take on at least the front yard, too, but I'm getting to be a wuss and John Dear got the better of me.  He drives like a Sherman tank.  That might be an exaggeration, never having driven a tank, Sherman or otherwise, but I've seen a lot of movies and those bad boys don't turn on a dime, either.  With all his bells and whistles, I sure wish they'd added power steering and maybe some shock absorbers.  I had to put the west field back on the list as it already needs mowing again.  Oh well.  It was a perfect day to be working outside, warm, but not hot enough to pop a sweat, and a nice breeze, to boot.

It's the time of year for the flying worms, those little green guys that float around on a long thread of silk.  I love the internet:  I typed in "little green worms hanging from silk" and kaboom, there they were.  Turns out they are called leaf rollers and inch worms, among other things.  They are specific to oak trees, of which I have plenty.  Oh goody.  It's not particularly pleasant when they land on your face or in your hair, though, as you ride or walk around.

I guarantee that today will be a do-nothing day.  I'll need a day to recover from yesterday's exertion.  The side yard yard sure looks nice, temporarily.

It's A Start

I am happy to report that the big whatever that had broken down the fence had not come back again in the night.  That was a relief and a great way to start the day.  I'm sure the girls felt the same way.

We're headed into a warming trend.  With the iffy weather lately, any laundry done went into the dryer.  Wearing my last pair of clean socks, washing clothes was at the top of the To-Do list yesterday and because it was a gorgeous morning, I knew I could hang everything outside.  There was just one problem:  the grass (weeds) had grown up so high in the side yard (okay, all the yards) that it would have been like wading through a jungle to get to the clothesline.  First things first.  I gave John Dear a slurp of gas and off we went.  I am fortunate that John has a gas gauge.  Fu Manchu did not, and it happened a few times that I underestimated his capacity and he'd quit in the middle of a field and I'd have to hoof it back to get a fill-up for him.  I knew that John did not have a full tank, but thought it was enough to get that yard done.  I have three gas cans and am usually careful to keep at least two filled.  Helper Dude and Beau had evidently used some and I hadn't realized that I had given John the last sip from the last can.

The first mowing always takes the longest.  Just as in the west field, we had to take baby bites and make second passes.  We got the section under the clothesline and some of the perimeter done before John's gauge started bouncing on empty.  Discretion being the better part of valor, I headed back to his stall and parked him.  I'd put a load of laundry in before starting to mow and it was ready to hang by then.  I do enjoy hanging clothes outside.

After a break and a bite of lunch, I took Bess and the gas cans down to Mt. Aukum.  The truck needed a fill-up, too.  Holy cow, the price of gas has gone up!  Talk about sticker shock.  Bess got her two cookies and we came home.  I know it's an exercise in futility and the only one I'm kidding is myself, but I did not continue mowing because I wanted to hold onto that liquid gold just a little longer.  It's not like the weeds are going anywhere.  Oh well, it's a start.

???!!!

What the heck was that?!  It took a moment yesterday morning to register what I was seeing when I went to open the gate to the goat pen.  The fence is four-inch square wire and four feet tall, meant to keep the girls in and not necessarily a protection against predators.  Something wasn't right with the chain and clip I carefully use morning and night to secure the latch.  Maybe my coffee hadn't kicked in yet, but then I saw that the fence next to the heavy-duty post had been broken down to about two feet and the staples had been pulled out of the post.  Crum!  Whatever the intruder was had to be big to do that kind of damage.  Believe me, I kept my eyes open and scanning the field while I straightened the fence and did what I could to refasten it to the post.  My heart was thumping as I walked to the barn.  I didn't want to run into whatever it was and was afraid what I'd find when I got there.

Missy was waiting in her room instead of coming out to meet me.  The girls were subdued, but safe, and the barn was intact.  Whew!  We went about our routine as usual without anything untoward.  However, as we paraded up to the fence later where the girls peeled off to nibble at the salt lick and the alfalfa, I noticed that the fence had been pushed down four sections farther along the line.  I guess I just hadn't seen it earlier.  Thankfully, I was able to get it straightened up so the goats couldn't jump out.  The strange part of all this is that I saw no foot or paw prints on either side nor down by the barn.  ???  I know there have been a number of bear sightings in the area, but found no fur on the fence in either place.  I can do without this kind of mystery.

Bessie Anne, clever girl, has figured out how to use the helper step I put down for her and she's back to using the doors to the deck.  Life is easier for both of us now.

I watched night fall with some trepidation.  I don't want any more after-dark visitors.

Oh Well

Win some, lose some.  Or, in my case this weekend, lose 'em all.  I didn't win a plug nickel at the horse races, and Bowyer and I were robbed yesterday.  Phooey.  With maybe sixty or so laps to go and Bowyer with a good lead, it started to rain at Dover.  The race was put on hold, waiting to see if it would quit, and it did after 40 minutes.  Since the race was well past the halfway point, had the rain continued Bowyer would have won by default.  (Hey, a win is a win.)  They got the track dry and the cars lined up for a restart.  Unfortunately, another driver got the jump on my guy and Bowyer had to settle for second place.  Sigh.

Missy is the self-appointed barn mascot whether the goats like it or not.  She's got my routine down cold now, knows my timetable and when to meet me, and leads me into the milking room and around to the back stalls.  She is busy, busy, busy, definitely a Type-A personality.  She makes Celeste look like a couch potato and I think she would wear Ralph down to a frazzle.  At least in the barn cat department, I got a winner.

Race Day II

The Derby didn't disappoint, even though no one I know bet on the winner(s).  It was a full day of gorgeous horses, handicapping, interviews with jockeys, trainers, and owners, and seeing some of the most beautiful/outrageous hats ever.  Since it rained most of the day at Churchill Downs, some of those hats became pretty droopy.  The rain also changed the odds on some of the horses that had never run on a wet track.

One of the best pre-race interviews was with Larry Collmus, the "Voice" of the Derby.  He has called the race for eight years.  He showed a clip of a past race in which the two horses coming to the finish line were named My Wife Doesn't Know and My Wife Knows Everything.  One would surge ahead and then the other.  Listening to Collmus trying to keep the two straight was hysterical.  The winner was My Wife Knows Everything, and Collmus said, "Right."

The weather was goofy here, too, looking like rain could be lurking, so Camille knocked off early to come watch the races.  I had almost everything ready so after the Run For The Roses, we filled our tacos and toasted Cinco de Mayo.

Horses will run on a muddy track, but race cars will not.  Here's hoping Delaware has good weather today.

Lost Weekend

No, not the 1945 movie "Lost Weekend" with Ray Milland and Jane Wyman which was spent in a drunken haze.  A better title might be "A Day At The Races" (1937, the Marx brothers), because today is the 144th running of the Kentucky Derby so you know what I'll be doing all day.  I do love horse racing, but contain my watching to the three legs of the Triple Crown, beginning with the Derby, called the Greatest Two Minutes in sports.  I enjoy all the hoopla that goes along with race day, the hats and interviews and those magnificent equine athletes.  I know in advance that not much will get done today.

In a token nod to Cinco de Mayo (we used to throw big parties back in the day), I'll be making tacos and frijoles for dinner.  Camille may decide to come over.

As if the Derby wasn't enough, tomorrow is NASCAR at Dover.  While I won't accomplish much this weekend, I most certainly will get my speed fix.  I'm okay with that.

Arden came by for a visit yesterday afternoon.  I was in a quandary as to what to serve as a nibble, then remembered something quick I used to fix years back.  There are always garbanzo beans (chickpeas) in the cupboard in case I want to make soup or stew, or throw some in a salad.  They're a good staple to keep on hand.  Melt a tablespoon or so of butter in a sheet pan and add a well-drained can of garbanzos, coating the beans.  Sprinkle with chili powder to taste and a dash of salt, stirring to mix well.  Bake in a hot oven for 15-20 minutes.  Best served warm, they're a good snack to go with a cold drink.

I had confessed my error with the miniature rose to Tinka, who, I am sure, qualifies as a Master Rosarian.  She was kind enough to call, telling me not to give up on the poor plant and giving advice on what CPR measures to take in hopes of keeping it alive.  Fingers crossed.

I Doubt It

Perhaps it is because of her winning ways, maybe because of her constant presence, I don't know, but Missy has somehow convinced the goats to at least tolerate her in their space.  Yesterday when I went into the barn, Missy was sitting up on a shelf in Tessie's room and Tess didn't seem to be disturbed in the least.  I thought the cat might have gotten herself into a pickle, unable to get down until the goat had been let out, but she jumped down, came across the room, and leaped up on the dividing wall to come over to my side to say good morning and get a pet.  She followed me around to the back stalls and Sheila and Inga both saw her without sounding the alarm.  I put down Missy's breakfast and went about the business of the morning.  In the past, if Inga had seen the cat, she would not go into the milking room, period.  After all, that lion might be lurking there.  Yesterday she went in without hesitation.  Her tummy full, Missy was in the hall when I brought Sheila out and Sheila didn't even flinch.  I thought it was a pretty successful morning, but it got even better.

I was finishing up chores in the milking room when Missy came around the corner and jumped up on the stand.  I have rarely spent any time with her, but sat down with her for a little more petting and a chat.  Cats seem to instinctively know what laps are for and she barely hesitated before climbing into mine.  Be still, my heart.

When my time was up, we went out together right into the midst of the girls.  Missy is nothing if not brave.  Tessie made a token charge at the cat and Missy just went around the corner.  I doubt that cat and goats will ever be best friends, but it's major progress that they can play nice together.

Pitiful

What a case of terrible timing.  I took a photo of that poor, pitiful rose, but it is too pathetic to show.  I wasn't kidding about the strength of the rain and hail.  Most of the leaves were stripped, leaving mostly bare stems, and so damaged the flowers they will have to be removed.  I truly don't know if the plant can be saved.  Sigh.

As if in apology, Nature cleared the sky, warmed up the sun, and pretended she hadn't had such a temper tantrum the night before.  Doing my own penance for mistreating the rose, I went out to do a bit of hand weeding in front of the porch.  It was just a drop in the bucket as far as what is out there, but it was a start, and I've learned to pace myself on this major project.  The lilac blossoms also took a beating from the rain, but rallied pretty well.  They draw a particular butterfly which, as near as I can figure, is a yellow and black swallowtail, and lots of bees.  It was pleasant working outside with fluttering and buzzing companions.

Remember all those apples I got from Camille?  After making all those apple cakes, I put the boxes in the round room and ignored them.  Apples are such forgiving fruit.  Yesterday I decided to bite the bullet and do something with them, fearing they might be good only for turkey treats.  I ended up with enough sliced apples for two big bags to put in the freezer for future pies, and any that had gone slightly soft went into a pot for applesauce.  The turkeys got shortchanged because only two apples got thrown out into the yard.

And all those tomatoes I spent days cutting up last summer?  I pulled out a bag from the freezer for an easy pasta sauce last night.  Yum.

After such a pitiful discovery in the morning, it turned out to be a rather productive day.

Light Show

Nature pulled out all the stops yesterday.  It started out grey and windy then morphed into a really nice day, actually warm with a nice breeze by the time Bess and I took the trash down to the big road in the afternoon.  Some while back, Arden had given me a sweet little miniature potted rose.  It wasn't happy living in the house, so I decided it was finally warm enough to put it out on the deck.  Yeah, well.

After dark, I caught sight of lightning strikes over the hills to the southeast.  Wow, where did that come from?  In the beginning, it was too far away to hear any thunder, but the light show went on and on, moving up the crest of the mountains until it was over directly across from me and the thunder rolled like cannons.  It went on nearly nonstop for over an hour and the booms sent the cats under the bed.  It was so severe that the emergency weather service sent out a warning on the television for El Dorado county.

No more had it finally tapered off and stopped than hail began to pound down, followed by a torrential downpour of rain.  Rain after what they said later was well over 200 lightning strikes was a good thing, in case any fires had occurred.  However, I think I'm going to have to apologize to the little rose for unintentional plant abuse.

Will The Real...?

Deja vu.  The phone rang and an unidentified number came up, just as it had the day before.  This time I let it go to voice mail but grabbed up the receiver when I heard (again) my brother-in-law's voice.  Yesterday it was the real Glenn and, no, it wasn't an invitation to lunch.  He and Jerri had just come back from an extended trip to Arizona.  He'd read about my faux pas the day before and gave me a gentle teasing.  He also reminded me about the family reunion coming up in June.  It's an annual event and a really big deal with relatives converging from at least three states.  Being the only caregiver for the goats, I haven't attended much in past years, but will try to make it for a day this year.

There used to be an old TV show called "To Tell The Truth" on which imposters tried to fool the panel.  At the end, the MC would say, "Will the real ______ stand up?" to be revealed.  I thought of that yesterday when the real Glenn called.  I always get a laugh out of that line because, when I first started milking goats I used mayonnaise jars to store the milk.  With even one goat, milking twice a day provided a lot of milk and the refrigerator was chock full of white jars.  One day Steve was going to make a sandwich, opened the fridge, stood there looking, and said, "Will the real mayonnaise please step forward?"

It was a cold, grey day yesterday, definitely not a day to mow the yards.  The girls have got to step up their game in the pens; the grasses are up to their bellies now, and Missy has to jump like a kangaroo to see where she's going.  I was this close to firing up Stove, but settled for the heated beanbag and a cup of hot cocoa.  It looks like today is going to be more of the same.